The Fifth Healer

25.

As we loop around the circle, leaving Ainsley behind, the G-force pulls me against Dr. Khan, and I have an instant of awkward physical contact with my captor. We speed back down the driveway and onto the Capital Beltway, an interstate that encircles Washington, DC. Like a clock.

"Next, we take Niles to another location in Maryland, also twenty-five from the objective," says Dr. Khan. "Address 1090 General's Highway. So named because George Washington traveled this road en route to Annapolis to give up his post as general after the war."

"Bloody idiot," mumbles Sloan. "Winning independence and then giving up all that power."

"That's what makes him remarkable," she says. She adds, "Egypt has never had a leader transfer power to anyone outside their dynastic lineage quite so peacefully."

"You're Egyptian?" asks Wally.

"I was born in Egypt," says Dr. Khan.

"Word," says Wally. "I love Egypt."

"You've been?"

"No, but I've seen a lot of movies with mummies and stuff," says Wally.

"Ah, right," says Dr. Khan.

We drive in silence the rest of the way, eventually making our way off the interstate to a curvy two-lane road, which Sloan mistakes for a Formula One track. Even as we careen through the countryside, I find myself wondering about Ainsley, left all alone in an unfamiliar area.

She's tough, I tell myself. She can take care of herself.

I take out my pocket watch, admiring how the moonlight reflects off the gears inside and the gold around the edge.

[TK]

"Here we are, Niles," says Dr. Khan as we halt rather abruptly-the tires squeak and everything-in front of a simple two-story house flanked by dual chimneys. "Due east of the objective. The 'Rising Sun Inn.' Legend has it Washington stopped here for a meal."

"George Washington? At this place?" says Wally, unimpressed.

"It may not look like much," says Dr. Khan. She side-eyes me. "But appearances can be deceiving."

I try to keep my face blank. But my mind is spinning. What does she suspect? Is there a reason she put the others in the back and me in the front seat with her?

Dr. Khan continues, "This house has been a significant waypoint in the region for nearly three centuries. Not just as an inn, but also as a tavern, post office, stagecoach stop, and so forth." With a flick of her finger, she motions Niles toward the door. "Remember, Niles. 12:12 am."

"Yeah, OK." Niles nods. The door clicks unlocked. Niles scoots toward it. "Good luck, Wally."

In the rearview, I see Wally, straight-lipped, offer Niles a first bump. "You too, bro."

Niles climbs out and then ducks his head back through the open back door.

"And, uh, also good luck to you, Nikolai," says Niles through the open door. I nod in acknowledgment.

Sloan shuts the door behind him, and we're back on the road, the miles passing quickly under Sloan's driving.

"Nikolai, you'll also be left in Virginia at the Thomas Stone House," says Dr. Khan as we turn beside a brown sign that says Thomas Stone National Historic Site.

"So where am I going, then?" asks Wally, who I'm guessing is unhappy to be dropped off last.

"Our final stop will be a second location in Virginia," says Dr. Khan. "Another stone house known simply as The Stone House."

"Wait, let me guess," says Wally. "It's ancient, and Christopher Columbus wrote the Star Spangled Banner there or something."

"Right on the first count," said Dr. Khan. "It's old. Wrong colonizer, though."

"Thomas Jefferson?" says Wally.

"Different war," says Dr. Khan.

Although Egyptian, Dr. Khan speaks of America's founders with noticeable reverence. I wonder, though, if Niles, being Black, has more mixed feelings about figures like Jefferson and Washington-the general who once at a meal at the inn at which he now waits.

Dr Khan continues, "The Stone House is known for its role in the American Civil War. It was a hospital. And unlike the ordinary hospitals of that era, most soldiers carried through these doors fully recovered, walking out on their own two feet."

I glance down at my legs. Technically, these are both my own two feet, although one is prosthetic. So, at some point, someone had to build it, and before they gave it to me, it wasn't my own foot. Whatever. The point is, I can't tell if Dr. Khan was making this Civil War comment as a general history lesson or as a reference to me, a message that she knows about my leg.

I look ahead at the narrow wooded road. "Where am I going? The Thomas Stone House, you said?"

"Yes. Thomas Stone had this house built in 1771, five years before Stone himself signed the Declaration of Independence. After the war, he was elected to the First Continental Congress in Philadelphia and then-"

"Hold on," says Wally, raising a hand as if he wanted to ask a question but then decided not to wait to be called on. "If you're Egyptian, how do you know all this random stuff about America?"

Dr. Khan smiles tightly. "The events of linear history are of great interest to me. As I was saying," she says in a tone that makes it abundantly clear where she stands on being interrupted by inane questions, "his wife came to visit him in Philadelphia. But she fell ill and died due to a smallpox inoculation. Four months after his wife passed, Thomas himself passed. He was forty-three."

The tires crackle as we transition onto a white gravel drive.

"Did he die of smallpox, too?" asks Wally.

"No, of a broken heart, as they say," says Dr. Khan. "He was unable to go on living knowing that his wife could have been healed but wasn't."

"I don't get it," says Wally as we pull to a stop. "He knew a cure for smallpox? Why didn't he use it on his wife?"

We are parked on the light-colored pebble driveway, which cuts through the center of a large field of thick, green grass like a narrow strip of crunchy snow. The sprawling farmhouse is offset from the gravel drive, rising like a red-brick island in a sea of grass.

Wally's question hangs in the air as Dr. Khan slides over and opens the door so I can step out. As soon as she's out of the vehicle, her fitted black clothes and dark features fading into the night outside, Sloan whips his head around to face Wally.

Sloan removes a chewed-up toothpick from his mouth and whispers sharply to Wally, "How'd he know his wife could be healed? I'll tell you how, in just one word: Gnomon."

"No-what?" asks Wally, loud enough that Sloan shushes him.

"Don't let her hear," he says, nodding his shiny bald head toward the open door. "It's Greek, kid. Means 'one who knows."

Wally frowns. "Mmm...I don't get it," he whispers.

Turning back to the steering wheel, Sloan straightens his silk skinny tie as he recites a poem, seemingly more to himself than for our benefit. "I am the last stand, never abusing secrets, I understand." He pauses and exhales a sniff of air as if pondering a deep irony. "This is the duty of the Gnomon."

I'm startled by the voice of Dr. Khan behind me through the open door. "Are you coming, Nikolai?"